


Ingwi

by thatgbppfrom10880MP



Category: Journey into Mystery, Loki: Agent of Asgard, Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, Thor (Comics)
Genre: Animism, Canon LGBTQ Character, Genderfluid, Genderfluid Character, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Themes, Marvel Norse Lore, Paganism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-05-14 21:38:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19281682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatgbppfrom10880MP/pseuds/thatgbppfrom10880MP
Summary: A short piece about Loki in nature.





	Ingwi

The land called to him, cool and collected. He chose to seat near a pine and the crushed needles around him scented the air. He breathed in deep, as only a god could, and felt the vastness of the world. Midgard, a home as much as the other realms, he supposed.

He brushed aside the detritus and dug his fingers into the soil. He breathed in deep, and shifted as she does so naturally, so unlike the other gods. Is this why she did not have a concrete home? Is this why they could claim no single realm as where they belong?

She felt the pulse of the life within the soil, taking in the greatness of the planet. She was a nature god, as much as one of stories, as much as one of mischief, lies, and deep down, murder.

She breathed in the forest around her, the scent of old growth, of rot, of the musk of deer, of fox and wolf. She shifted herself into it all, and they know the cycle of life so intimately.

They felt the flow of the stream, water grasses fluttering in the current, little fishes flitting along the growth, snapping at larvae. They shivered, and knew of the huddle of hare young, wriggling together in sleepiness. Their mother away, grooming the growth of the forest away. They felt the thuds of deer roaming lazily, tails flicking, ears wild, and a branch falls, the tails pop up, flashing a warning of white fur. They spring away at flight from nothing.

He sighs, almost a moan. He is himself and more importantly, more than that. He has entered what will always occur. It is beyond life and death. It is more than a simple cycle; life is not one side of a coin. He does not need flip a switch, and now all goes from life to death. He can feel the process of rot indeed, of microorganisms and larvae chewing away at the dead raccoon. He can feel the elderly fox’s heart stop, body overtaxed from parasites. He is aware of the cleaner crew that are the vultures and beetles. He is aware of the worms.

But she is aware of what is far greater: there is no life nor death. It is the same thing. It is easier to speak in sides, yet the coin will always be a coin. A wheel turning is only a wheel. These are wholes, and this is existence.

They know that there is something beyond death, something that ends all stories. They are aware that so long as they hold into the land, they are here, and as they slip their fingers away from the soil, it will all cease.


End file.
